


have your cake (and eat it too)

by yoonbot (iverins)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iverins/pseuds/yoonbot
Summary: Mingyu is not Seokmin's closest friend. But they're close, and they're friends, which means something.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i should be writing other things but i went from not noticing seokgyu to writing this in twenty-four hours.  
> *runs around questioning my life decisions* ;;;;

Seokmin is kind of a compulsive liar.

In his defense, Soonyoung says it’s because he’s too gullible, and most of the times he relays information to someone else, he’s already been tricked into believing a lie. Other times - like right now - Seokmin well knows that he’s not telling the truth, but his mouth betrays all honesty, anyway.

“Did you see Mingyu in the bathroom?” Seungcheol asks from where he’s picked himself up on the floor, sweaty shirt sticking to his back.

You see, Seokmin wants to be a good person, and good people chalk up and admit their wrongdoings. Seokmin thinks that he probably wants to be a good person so badly, _too badly_ in fact, that it always ends in trying to bend the truth in ways that distort it into an entirely different situation.

He swallows. “Nope,” is the thing that comes out of his traitorous mouth as he takes a seat next to Chan. Soonyoung is starting to get up, meaning that their short break is almost over.

The worst part is probably that Seungcheol trusts him. “Huh,” he says, thinking while Seokmin tries not to, trying to forget the last thirty minutes of his life actually existed.

 

 

 

 

Mingyu is not Seokmin’s closest friend. But they’re close, and they’re friends, which means something.

When there’s twelve other boys you live with nearly twenty-four seven, it’s natural that a sort of friendship hierarchy emerges. If Seokmin takes the time to think about it, Mingyu falls not too far down the list - past Soonyoung and Seungkwan but before the halfway mark - but he often doesn’t, so consequently, he doesn’t really think about Mingyu. Mingyu is just kind of _there_ , like Seokmin himself, half-awake in the morning when he’s knocking elbows with him in the bathroom crowded with too many people, brushing their teeth in complete silence.

It’s weird because Mingyu was Seokmin’s fastest friend when he first joined. That day almost four years ago, nervousness churning in his otherwise-empty stomach, seemed so far away to Seokmin now - especially through fast-paced promotions, being shuttled to one place to the next, not sure where they were going exactly - when he thinks about how much things have changed between them. Now, Mingyu had an equal in bickering in Minghao, when Seokmin had shied away from full-out arguments and confrontations with concessions and nervous laughter, and Seokmin had Soonyoung, who added on to his jokes until everything reached a too-loud breaking point, when everything fell into chaos.

But back then, as Seokmin looked down at the new sneakers his mother had bought him in the awkward silence after everyone had introduced themselves, Mingyu had bounded up to him with an excited grin on his face, slinging an arm around Seokmin’s shoulders, beaming, “We’re the same age!” They’d been inseparable during those first two weeks.

Seokmin doesn’t know how things between them changed, in the same way he doesn’t know how he was suddenly celebrating his twentieth birthday surrounded by more cakes than all thirteen of them could finish eating, but he guesses he doesn’t hate the way things are now. Mingyu is comfortable, tall and sure, a good person to share snacks with because Seokmin trusts he’ll at least get forty percent of the bag, and someone that Seokmin can have meaningless, but nice, conversations with.

Maybe somewhere deep, deep down inside Seokmin, there’s some one-sided regret that he couldn’t be someone like Wonwoo or Minghao to Mingyu. But he honestly doesn’t think about it whenever he and Mingyu lapse into silence after scrambling for socks and jackets, throwing each other necessary articles of clothing, or whenever he and Mingyu end up walking next to each other down the street, laughing about something Seokmin will never remember about a few hours later.

He also doesn’t think about it when he’s in the one-person bathroom near the practice room, trying to alleviate an unexpected boner during their ten-minute break in between practice, when Mingyu knocks on the door three times for the second time, whining, “Seokmin, I really have to pee.”

Seokmin thinks he’s got the whole set-up figured out. He’ll stay at the sink and pretend to be washing his hands very thoroughly while Mingyu uses the toilet. Mingyu, in his rush not to get yelled at by Seungcheol, will pee like a champion and leave without rinsing his hands, giving Seokmin at least another two or three minutes to solve the problem going on in his nether regions. It’ll all be _just fine -_

Everything backfires within the first thirty seconds, when Seokmin’s already opened the door for Mingyu. Usually, when Seokmin thinks he’s got things figured out, he actually doesn’t, and forgets about his failures, which makes the same mistakes happen over and over again. Not like he’s ever encountered Mingyu pointedly staring at the tent in his crotch, but you know. Nobody’s perfect.

“Uh…” Seokmin sputters, retreating back to the sink. Mingyu looks up from burning holes into Seokmin’s crotch and speeds to the toilet instead, where he lets out a forceful-sounding stream of urine after lifting the seat cover.

A solid half-minute passes. It feels like half an hour. Seokmin thinks he’s going to faint from how hot his face feels in shame. “Can we forget this ever happened?” he blurts the same time Mingyu goes “Do you want help with that?”

“What,” Seokmin says. Mingyu flushes the toilet. “The fuck.”

Mingyu pushes past him slightly to get to the sink. He soaps up his hands before turning on the water and scrubbing. Seokmin kind of stares at them the whole time - kind of because he tries really hard not to, but he doesn’t know if that translates to actually averting his eyes because all he sees are Mingyu’s long fingers and large palms covered with soap bubbles, wishing he wasn’t so horny and hard right now.

“I can, uh,” Mingyu starts again, sounding unsure, using an elbow to turn off the water. His thigh brushes against Seokmin’s and Seokmin does his best not to whimper. “Um,” he says, gesturing with his hand instead, water droplets flying off it.

Seokmin wants to laugh because everything about this situation is so horrendously awkward that it should be hilarious. But when he opens his mouth, his big, fat mouth, all that comes out is a gurgled _yes, please,_ and when he’s thinking about how he should’ve laughed again, Mingyu has already pulled down his sweatpants.

Mingyu’s hand is still wet and cold with water when he wraps it around Seokmin’s dick. It makes Seokmin’s mind go blank, thoughts hazy, and he flinches further into Mingyu, who’s standing behind him now, body pressed flush against his.

And then Mingyu starts stroking him.

Let it be known that Seokmin has only ever had his own right hand as his trusty companion in times of need, so having someone else’s, especially Kim Mingyu’s, gaining more confidence as Seokmin starts moaning, against his cock is overstimulating already, to say the least. When Seokmin tilts his head up to look at Mingyu from where he was staring at Mingyu’s hand jacking him off, he sees dark eyes focused on Seokmin’s cock, which just makes everything better or worse, depending on how he wants to interpret it. Or harder, in the case of his dick.

“You’re,” he hears Mingyu mutter between clenched teeth, with much effort as Seokmin starts to feel a pressure pooling in his crotch. The rest of his words are lost in between a breathy moan and Mingyu pressing up even more insistently against Seokmin.

“What?” Seokmin thinks he says, but it probably comes out incoherent instead as Mingyu traces his thumb down his length.

Mingyu ruts himself against Seokmin’s ass. Well, fuck if that isn’t hot. “Fucking loud,” he mutters again. “Fuck, can I suck your dick?”

Seokmin catches himself saying something super sexy like, “Um, okay,” which is of course the thing that turns your long-time friend on enough for them to get down on their knees before you and start licking your dick. It feels great, by the way. Seokmin has no idea whether Mingyu’s actually done this before, or if it was just some leftover hormones from their by-gone adolescence that made everything feel amazing.

There’s no push or pull, no teasing or pulling away with a sly grin on his face. This was Mingyu, for god’s sake, who did everything earnestly, which meant that if he was going to blow Seokmin, he was going to _blow_ Seokmin. It’s literally hot wetness with the occasional accidental encounter with teeth that makes Seokmin hiss through the steam of everything, and it doesn’t stop until Seokmin feels he’s close, and are those inaudible noises that vaguely sound like an off-key version of _아주 Nice_ coming from his mouth? He cards a hand through Mingyu’s still-damp hair, searching for something to hold onto desperately as he feels himself closer and closer to falling over the edge, whispering _I think I’m close, oh god, Mingyu, I’m close -_

Mingyu sits back just in time for Seokmin to come on his face. Which Seokmin instantly regrets.

“Shit,” Mingyu pants, face scrunching. Seokmin supports himself with two wobbly arms against the sink, knees weak. “I think some got in my eye.”

Seokmin finally comes back down to Earth as he watches Mingyu grab some toilet paper, wiping off his face first and at his eyes before cleaning off Seokmin, in which he finally realizes something just went very, very wrong.

“You alright?” Mingyu asks lazily, still on his knees with a wad of toilet paper covered with Seokmin’s come in his hand. Past that is, lo and behold, a tent in Mingyu’s shorts.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Umm,” Seokmin says, mind still buffering. His thoughts fuzz, thinking in panic mode. “Umm,” again and then Seokmin pulls up his sweats and runs out of the bathroom, not stopping until he reaches the door of the practice room, knees still wobbly and lungs burning like the breath had just been punched out of them, more so than performing one of their songs could ever make him.

This brings us to the current situation, in which Seokmin realizes he has just made his life a mess.

 

 

 

  

“What would you do,” Seokmin asks Soonyoung when they’re out to buy more things for the dorm. One of those things included toilet paper, which just made Seokmin think about Mingyu and the feeling of his dick pressing against his ass. Well, shit. “If someone gave you a blowjob and you just ran out afterwards?”

Soonyoung follows Seokmin’s gaze to dish detergent, as if he’ll see whatever inspired Seokmin to ask such a question. Not like Seokmin thinks Soonyoung is judging him - he’s definitely asked more questionable things before. Soonyoung looks back at the shopping list that Seungcheol handed them and Seokmin’s pretty sure half of it was written by Mingyu. “Does your imaginary self say ‘thanks?’” he asks, placing the on-sale brand into their basket.

Seokmin feels his blood turn cold. “No.”

Soonyoung laughs, like this is all happening to imaginary Seokmin. You could laugh easily at imaginary people, Seokmin supposes. He wishes this was imaginary. “Well, if I liked it, I’d ask for more,” Soonyoung says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. So much for advice. Seokmin tries not to drop the two hefty packs of toilet paper on the way back to their dorm in his moment of misery.

They’d acted relatively normal after everything that happened: Mingyu came back to the practice room ten minutes later, got scolded a little by Seungcheol, and had even thrown Seokmin a tired smile when their eyes met in the mirror. Seokmin had looked away first to respond to something Seungkwan was trying to tell him. He’d been actively avoiding Mingyu’s gaze from then on.

As he toes off his shoes and kicks them into one of the piles collecting at their front door, Jeonghan calls out, “Oh, you guys are back?” from where he’s lying buried between some blankets on the floor. Wonwoo, who’s sitting next to him with a book balanced on his knee, looks up before leaning back and calling, “Hey, Kim Mingyu, come check if they got the dish detergent you wanted!”

Fuck. Seokmin wonders if he can just drop the toilet paper with Joshua - who happens to be walking past to get to the kitchen, stepping over Jeonghan - and flee. Before he can do anything, Mingyu is sliding over the laminate floor on his socks after getting a running start, eyes sparkling and dark, dark like they were, focused on Seokmin’s cock -

“Hyung,” Mingyu frowns after rummaging through one of the bags in Soonyoung’s hands. “Did you just buy whatever’s on sale? We all know the other brand works better…” he trails off, looking for someone to help him argue his cause. His eyes land on Seokmin.

Seokmin is bad with any kind of confrontation, whether it be arguing for dish detergent that he can’t really tell the difference between or just dealing with problems in life. Whenever it’s time to deliver the final line, he always blows it. Kind of like the way Mingyu blew him. Shit, he’s thinking about it again -

“I just remembered I have to sleep,” Seokmin blurts. Soonyoung looks confused. Mingyu looks confused. Wonwoo gives him a pity laugh.

After putting the toilet paper into its respective cabinet, Seokmin hides himself under his blankets and hopes he can stay there forever.

 

 

 

   

Mingyu takes the hint. After another two days of trying to bring Seokmin into conversations, only for Seokmin to pretend he didn’t hear him or running away after offering some stupid excuse, Mingyu gives up. Seokmin pretends he doesn’t see the hurt look on Mingyu’s face the last time he rejects Mingyu’s offer to share snacks with him.

It’s not like Seokmin doesn’t want to. He actually really wants everything to go back to normal with Mingyu again - their roundabout, pointless conversations, the way Mingyu went along with a lot of the things Seokmin said, resting his arm around Mingyu’s shoulders. The problem is, he keeps thinking about Mingyu’s large palms and long fingers wrapped around his leaking cock, about putting his own hand down Mingyu’s pants and jacking him off until his release, and those are none of the things that Seokmin thinks he wants with Mingyu, but his wet dreams tell him otherwise.

Seungkwan gives him a look when Seokmin tries to discreetly wash his sheets early in the morning for the second time in a week. Seokmin gives him a look in return because Seungkwan’s wearing this pair of slippers that he’d sworn he’d lost five months ago. Seokmin didn’t even know Seungkwan woke up at this time - if he had, he’d have gotten up even earlier to avoid the judgemental gaze trained on him now.

“Is something wrong?” Seungkwan asks, sipping coffee from the mug in his hand. It has a half-scratched off smiley face on it. It makes Seokmin kind of want to cry, until he realizes that his eyes are watering because they’re stinging from lack of sleep, not emotions.

Seokmin laughs nervously. “No,” he denies quickly. He was not going to have this kind of conversation with Seungkwan, especially not at - he glances at the clock - five fifty in the morning. “Just felt like doing some laundry,” he adds, trying to sound convincing. His voice cracks.

Seungkwan raises his eyebrows. “Is this about Mingyu?”

“What?” Seokmin stammers, clutching the sheets closer to his chest. Wrong move. He holds them more away from his body. “What do you mean?”

“Minghao told me Mingyu said you’re a wuss,” Seungkwan says calmly, taking another sip of his coffee. “Of course, that’s in Minghao terms, so Mingyu was probably just complaining about you or something. I mean, it’s pretty obvious you’ve been avoiding each other all week.”

Seokmin lets out a breath. For a moment there, he thought Seungkwan was going to accuse him of jacking off to thoughts of Mingyu (which was kind of actually the truth). And then he realizes there’s a bigger problem. Did Mingyu tell Minghao what happened? Would Minghao then tell Jun what happened? And then once it got to Jun, it’d kind of get out to everybody, and then everyone would silently know why Mingyu was late that one time and that Seokmin was a liar. Well, Soonyoung knew it already. The liar part.

“Fuck,” is all that Seokmin can think to say. Seungkwan looks at him with sympathy.

“Why don’t you guys just talk it out?” Seungkwan suggests gently. The logical part of Seokmin’s brain knows that it’s the solution that makes the most sense. The problem is, for all Seokmin’s loudness and talkativity, he doesn’t know what to say to Mingyu anymore.

 

 

 

 

It was a miracle that they’d been able to go a week without acknowledging each other’s presence, even going as far as delivering work-related messages to each other through the other members. But when you’re stuck living with the person you’re trying to avoid, there’s no way to hide forever. Seokmin lets himself ignore this fact until he sees Mingyu and Minghao talking in the hallway outside the bathroom one night, Mingyu leaning against the wall, Minghao standing near him. They both turn to look at Seokmin when the door closes behind him.

Seokmin thinks he tries to bolt. Mingyu’s eyes look at him, hurt, and Minghao just regards him in his usual Minghao manner. But before Seokmin can turn back the way he came, Minghao calls out, “Seokmin!” and because he loves Minghao, he walks over, keeping a decent distance from Mingyu, who continues to watch him.

“I’m leaving now,” Minghao pipes up after Seokmin’s settled against the wall opposite the one Mingyu’s leaning against. Seokmin gapes and Mingyu throws puppy dog eyes, but Minghao smiles and goes to help Chan, who’s playing a game on some electronic device while walking around the dorm at the same time.

Seokmin meets Mingyu’s eyes for a moment. Mingyu flinches before looking back down at the floor. “Uh,” Seokmin starts, clearing his throat. Rather than the normal comfortable silence, this one settles stifling and awkward between them. “So how are you?”

Mingyu stiffens. “Is that all you’re going to say?” he snaps, still looking at the floor. Seokmin frowns.

“Are you angry at me?” he says, shocked.

Mingyu finally looks up again, eyes dark and upset. “Who wouldn’t be angry when you did nothing wrong and some person starts acting like they hate you?” The words come out cold and, _oh._ Seokmin feels like a jerk.

“I don’t hate you,” Seokmin explains, gesturing with his hands. Mingyu glares at him. “I…” he trails off, not sure where he’s going with this.

“Then what?” Mingyu says, raising his voice a little. He leans forward a bit and brings his face closer to Seokmin’s. “Then what does it mean when you tried to avoid me every day after that one time?” Seokmin shouldn’t think about counting every one of Mingyu’s eyelashes but his face keeps getting closer and closer. His heart pounds loudly, painfully, in his chest, so fast that his brain can’t keep up, can’t tell him what to say.

“You know,” Mingyu laughs dryly, unamused, when Seokmin doesn’t reply. “I thought both of us were enjoying ourselves that night but I guess not.” His lips dip back into a frown. Seokmin wishes he weren’t so focused on them, eyelashes and the lines on Mingyu’s lips, all caught up in the details when Mingyu was talking about the whole picture.

But, “Wait,” Seokmin says, brain finally processing something. “Say that again?”

Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “I guess not?”

“No, no!” Seokmin exclaims. He couldn’t have heard right. “Before that.”

“That night,” Mingyu says slowly, like he’s questioning Seokmin’s intelligence. “In the bathroom. Where I - ”

“Before that,” Seokmin blurts.

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Both of us were enjoying ourselves?”

Seokmin’s fingers tingle with the static of a television without connection, soft and numbing and unsure of what comes next in this sequence of events. “I thought I was the only one who liked what happened,” he says quietly.

“Oh,” Mingyu says dumbly. He settles back against the wall, all the anger unraveling from his shoulders. “ _Oh,_ ” he says, more purposefully this time.

“Yeah,” Seokmin echoes in disbelief. Mingyu liked sucking his dick. There was someone out there listening to his prayers, after all. He’s half-sure that this isn’t really happening, that this is all some conversation he made up and wished unfolded.

“I’m sorry,” he supplies, looking at the floor in between both their feet. Seokmin doesn’t know if it’ll be enough to bridge the damage he’s caused. All he knows is that he and Mingyu are close, and they’re friends but also not quite friends, which means something.

They look at each other. Really look at each other. Seokmin feels his heart beating too fast in his chest as he takes a step forward, and then another, leaning closer and closer to Mingyu until he lets himself count several eyelashes, and kisses him.


End file.
